


Beyond Recognition

by Violet Lunar Wolf (Dragon_MoonX)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Torture, Character Death, Dark Neville Longbottom, Mental Breakdown, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-29
Updated: 2003-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25430209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_MoonX/pseuds/Violet%20Lunar%20Wolf
Summary: Sometimes, when a person is pushed too far, they will do terrible things. Sometimes, when they are driven to madness, there is only one way to make it stop. Because they dislike sanity, they have no sanity, they want to sanity. They only wish for quiet in their mind.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Beyond Recognition

There she was, all wrapped up in silver threads like the perfect Christmas present. They'd even tied a neat little bow around the back where her hands were bound together. And what a delightful gift to unwrap, peeling back layers of tissue, fingernails digging in until he exposed the broken shards of bone, pale white, streaked with rivulets of blood cascading onto the floor.

Even now, as he walked towards her in the moonlight, Neville Longbottem felt the urge the cry, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, dripping with the next step.

How long had he been forced to wear this smile for his friends? How many times had they promised him that everything was going to be alright? How long until this war was finally over? Would it ever stop?

Hermione had been the sensible one, standing by his side for so many years. She had suggested the use of logic and reason. Ask questions, find out why someone acts the way they do, then use the information to try and solve the problem. But where was she now? How could he reason with this?

Another step. Drops of blood joined glistening tears, old wounds reopening, spilling scarlet fluid down his neck and chest.

Alecto, ever the vicious heathen, had shown her true colors, tearing open her victims with her teeth. It wasn't enough to curse and maim. It wasn't enough to rip and gouge, to laugh as innocent children, some only in their first year of school, lay bleeding on the floor. She had to bite them, to taste the warmth of their life essence as it dribbled down her chin.

Neville had seen their twisted corpses, bodies mutilated beyond recognition. Their parents wouldn't even be able to identify the remains, and he had lost so many of his closest friends. Those that remained kept telling him the same thing, that it would get better. It had to get better, just wait. But you cannot reason with one who has the mentality of a beast, unable to see beyond her childish tantrums, lashing out in a fit of rage.

It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.

That was when he decided to walk away, after the final confrontation with his friends. They had heard his voice, screaming long into the wee hours of the night. His bruises ached and his head throbbed, the puncture wounds and scratch marks stinging with the simplest gesture. They laced his features like cross stitched fabric, scars embedded in his flesh, nightmares running rampant in his sleep.

Couldn't they see that this was slowly driving him insane? And what is the definition of insanity if not the hope for different results, even though you have tried the same course of action over and over again?

An angry snarl tore from his lips, the ropes that bound her brother splintering first, coming apart piece by piece like the shattered fragments of his mind. The youngest of the two Carrows was then cast aside with a wave of his wand, his skull fracturing when it struck the adjacent wall.

Time and time again he told them. He told them he was done, he told them he didn't want to do this anymore. Maybe now his friends would listen. Maybe the blood on his hands would serve as proof.

In the silence that followed, Neville Longbottem felt his heart pounding a fierce tempo against his ribcage, the sickening crunch of breaking bones echoing in the stillness of the room. But Amycus was only one part of this, a single strand in the cord that tightened around his chest. He could feel it, as he had felt it for days, suffocating him with dread, not wanting to set foot in Alecto's classroom for fear of what she would do.

Even now, though she remained vulnerable in the remnants of her silver cocoon, he still felt the ache deep beneath his ribs when he looked at her, closing like a vice around his chest.

"No more," Neville whispered, glaring at the unconscious witch, her prone figure sprawled across the floor.

A horrendous scream tore through his chest, blood spattering the walls as he carved open her flesh. He wanted her torn beyond recognition, like so many of her victims she left bleeding on the steps. And from the tips of her fingers he began peeling back the flesh, exposing the skeletal structure underneath.

The light that flared from the tip of his wand illuminated her dying features, flashing like lightning, striking only after he made sure to revive her. It ignited the curtains on the wall, burning through the fabric of her dress, dissolving what remained of her skin.

He watched the blistering surface with great satisfaction, heard her scream and felt tremendous joy. He himself was beyond recognition. He wouldn't be happy until she was too.

Pausing once, he watched Alecto crawl across the floor, desperate in her attempt to escape. Another slice, another devastating hex that left her choking on her own blood.

He wanted her in pieces. He wanted to make sure there was nothing left, nothing that would come back to haunt him.

The ferocity of his attacks increased, with barely a second between each curse. In the end he set her spirit free with a swipe across her throat, leaving her to bleed to death in the smoldering ashes of the room. And yet one familiar voice remained, asking the same question it had done a thousand times.

Is it over? Is it truly finished this time?

We shall see.

.oOo.

Limping from the pain of his old injuries, Neville Longbottom made his way into the Forbidden Forest, collapsing with his back against an ancient tree. He was joined in silence by a massive creature, alerting him to her presence with the brush of a leathery wing against his cheek.

At first he was startled, fearing that Alecto had somehow managed to survive and was now seeking her revenge. Then he saw it, eyes the color of faded summer skies, looking back at him with a sadness he remembered.

She settled beside him in the dark, ready to lie down and sleep for the remainder of her days. There was no need to call her name, no reason to hope for a return. Where they had been, there was no going back. It was done.


End file.
